Lincoln Cathedral. 7am. Two black eyes un-shutter themselves on the north-west tower: they survey the mist-blinded turrets. The peregrine falcon struts himself awake, flickers on a ledge, then drops. His call stabs the echo of the seventh gong. Latticed in a gothic frame, the sleep-fluffed chick watches his parent free-fall into ghost’s breath. Continue reading
Random Lincs 